Strange Things
by Graveyard of Hearts
Summary: Strange is a word usually thrown around when humanity doesn't understand what it is they are dealing with. They don't want to understand a person who is different from them, so they've become labeled. Strange. Abnormal. Freakish. Perhaps unique should be considered. Who knows: a person's abnormality just may save your world. LxFOC. (Follows the Main story. Sometimes.)
1. Prologue

"W-wait!" came the cry of a young girl, about eleven or twelve, who was running through the lavish halls of the orphanage. Several children stared at her, squealing in surprise, as she rushed by in a great haste. Some of the squealing children sent her ever shrinking form glares as if she were crazy and infuriating, especially when they turned to see what it was she was chasing. No one would see what it was, however, that had the young girl's attention.

" _What a strange one_."

" _Freak_."

" _She's almost as strange as_ him _._ "

" _No.. She's stranger. His strangeness can be over looked by his brilliance, at least._ "

Those were some words that were commonly used to describe the frail and dark-haired child. She was strange. She always seemed to be chasing after something that didn't exist or speaking to nothing but the thin air in hushed whispers. She was strange. Of course, _strange_ was only thrown around when humanity didn't understand what it was that they've been gifted. Or rather, they didn't want to understand.. People were never comfortable around those that were abnormal. They didn't understand her. They weren't comfortable around her. There were few who did understand.. Few were comfortable around her.

However..

There was a few.. A few didn't call her a freak..

Those who did call her strange, they.. Well.. She had learned since she was even younger how to block them out and to not allow herself to waste her tears on them any longer. She learned that they just weren't worth it. She learned that her emotions needed to be contained.

You see.. The girl didn't just chase after nothingness. She wasn't talking to herself in those hushed little tones. Strange. Indeed, she was. In fact, she was, in ways, much stranger than he was.. Or, maybe.. Maybe _unique_.. Unique may be a much better suited word for her.

After all.. Not many could say they could feel the presence of the other worldly. Not many could say they could see and speak to those who have passed on.. Not truthfully, anyways.

The strange- no, unique- girl was so focused on the shimmering figure of a charred looking woman that she didn't notice a pair of worn and dull looking sneakers, letting out a small " _oof_!" as she tripped. Her squeal soon became a muffled whine as she face-planted onto the floor and ended up with a mouthful of carpet. She could hear the amused snickers of those who had seen her blunder and squeezed her eyes shut, just laying there for a moment.

 _Just ignore them, Quinn.._ , she told herself as she pushed herself onto her knees, spitting out the fibers and hair that ended up in her mouth. " _Ptuh-ptuh_!" She wiped her mouth to get rid of any saliva and straightened up. She opened her eyes and looked around to the children; several stopped their poorly hidden laughter. Wisps of her messy locks fell into her face and tickled at her lips. She blew at them audibly(though of course, her hair wanted to be rather difficult that day and did as it pleased), staring at the kids with a blank expression.

"Miss Hayes.." came a quiet yet surprisingly deep voice, which brought her attention forward. When she did, the girl let out a small shriek of surprise and, throwing her hands up in the process, fell back. A boy with untamable raven coloured hair that looked as if it had never seen the wonders of a brush and tired, yet always aware, eyes were mere inches from her face. She held her hand over her heart and stared up at the ceiling wide-eyed. He stared at her quietly, looking unamused. Just bored. "Are you done?"

She sat up and moved to her knees, her face mere inches from his. "Do you not know the meaning of personal space, Ryuuzaki?" she said, glaring into his onyx orbs.

He merely shrugged his already strung up shoulders, which made her give him a deadpanned look. His white shirt, which seemed as if it were trying to battle his ivory coloured skin in a race to see which can lack the least freaking colour, looked to be wrinkled and seemed to be slightly too big for his fourteen year old frame. "I was just checking to see if you were okay. That was quite a fall you just took. And I wanted to get my shoes back. If you'd be so kind." He held his hand out for her, as if he wanted her to retrieve his shoes for him. "Would you please hand me my shoes, Miss Hayes? Then you may continue whatever it is that you do around here."

She only stared up at him for a moment before her gaze traced over to the flickering and disappearing form of her mother. She locked eyes with the deceased woman before she couldn't see her any longer. This made the younger girl grumble and smack his hand from her. "You don't even like shoes!" She said, pushing herself up to her feet and folding her arms over her chest. She continued to glare at the boy.

He merely stood up straight. Ha! Whenever that humpbacked panda actually practices good posture and can stand up like a normal person, I'm pretty sure Hell will freeze over! He pressed his thumb to his mouth, pushing at his upper lip. "Miss Hayes?"

"What now?"

"I'm on my way to the kitchen to see if there is any shortcake. I've been really craving it for some time. I'd ask if you'd like to come along, but you seem a little busy." He smirked at her behind his thumb.

It was her turn to smirk up at him. "Is that so? Well, I am a little busy, but I'd love some shortcake." The truth of the matter was there was no more shortcake. In fact, Quinn had eaten the last piece! She knew it was his favorite, besides chocolate of course, sweet to eat. _Ha! Take that, L! That's what you get, Mr. Panda!_ She thought rather smugly. After all, he was keeping her from chasing after her mum. However, to her dismay, when they got to the kitchen, he didn't allow her to leave until she agreed to make him a new cake. They were in the kitchen for quite some time at quite the stalemate.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Okie dokie. So, I was bored and was watching Death Note, (I finally finally_ FINALLY _got the whole series on DVD. Yay. Squeals. Now I can watch L all I wan... Uhmm.. Hold on.. Becky is ranting) and I wanted to write a DN fanfiction for a while. This has been an idea brewing in my head for a long time and I just now decided to put it on paper. Don't worry, I am still working on my two other stories. Burning Chaos is on hold until I can get Kingdom Hearts 1.5 since I don't have a PS2 any longer, and Hell Comes in Different Colors, I will be updating within the next few days (hopefully). Well. See ya!_


	2. Chapter 1: King for a Day

There was something strange here... What looked to be a young man with sandy blonde hair that one would regard as untamable was standing before an alter of an empty church. What should have felt like a holy and peaceful presence was nothing but an overwhelmingly dark and vile feel to the air, with an overly suffocating atmosphere that wafted and invaded one's being and filled them with an uneasy apprehension. He looked around, comically large framed, red specks sliding down the bridge of his nose at the slightest movement -which prompted the lad to push them back up with two very slender fingers-, before proceeding towards the back doors where the offices were. And, more importantly, the stairs that lead right to the attic.

His destination.

As the young man climbed up the stairs that lead to the attic, that annoying feeling of dread continued to suffocate him. In all his uneasy life, he had never felt something like this. Not until just days before. As he neared an old looking door with maroon paint paint chipping and crumbling away and onto the floor, it dawned on him that he was nearing what seemed to be the very center, the very heart, of the gloomy presence. It's resonating aura all but burnt the boy as he reached for the bronze doorknob. He was uncomfortable, which frightened him. He wasn't really one to scare.. When you see the dead all day, every day, you kind of become calloused to anything that would strike fear into one's soul, especially when spirits tend to pop in during the most inopportune and hindering moments..

Any normal person would just turn away and not bother with this. They would leave and not give a second thought. Of course... If one _were_ normal, would they honestly even be seeking out these sort of things? Probably, but would they be so in-tuned to what was around them like this boy? Would they be heading straight towards the very thing that was giving them the heebie-geebies? No. I don't suppose they would, so my statement above is pretty much moot at this point.

The door should of been locked. The knob should not of been able to turn as he twisted his wrist. The church itself should of been locked.. It was old and pretty much abandoned. So, you can imagine how his uneasiness amplified as the bronze handle twisted without any problem. With a deep breath, he pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

The door didn't move; something was pressed against it, he presumed, to keep anyone from entering. But they didn't expect that he'd be there, and he made sure that he got where he wanted.

His jaw tightened as his lips formed a thin line, a grumbling sounding from him as pressed his shoulder against the wooden frame. With a surprisingly feminine grunt, he slammed himself into the door as hard as he could, one of his hands keeping the knob twisted. The door didn't budge much, but he was a persistent and determined soul, never one to be easily yielded. He continued to drive his small and lithe body into the stubborn door, and each time he made his impact, the stupid thing began to slowly give way, sliding mere inches until a loud crash on the other side stalled him.

Blinking in idle curiosity, he peeked inside, there being only enough room for his head to poke through the opening at this point. Small coughs were forced from his throat as his lungs were invaded by the dust that was flying around due to the small shelf that had been propped against the door and prevented any from entering being knocked over. Yaaaay.. More work.

It took a few more strained pushes on the door to move the fallen piece of furniture until it couldn't move anymore. That was okay. Those few pushes gave him the space he needed to slip through the opening into the room.

He pulled out a flashlight from his shoulder slung bag and switched it on, looking around while pushing his glasses up again. This was definitely the source of the uneasiness he was feeling. He didn't quite understand this dark feeling; it was such a new thing to him.. His eyes landed on what he was looking for, which only confused him even more. The slowly swaying form of a woman, hanging from the rafters above.. Her eyes, which he presumed to be hazel, were bugged out and blood shot; her neck was bent at an odd angle, having been broken during the process, and bruised by the rope. Dried tears and drool could be seen on her paled skin.. Strands of her black hair fell into her face, blending into the black leather jacket she wore...

 _So this is her_ , he thought to himself as he watched the mirror spectral image of the woman walk past him and to her swaying form. _Why did her spirit bring me here?_ She was staring up at herself, casting expecting glances at him every so often. He blinked before taking the hint and lowered her body to the ground, removing the noose from around her neck. Once she was on the ground, he reached forward, ignoring the fact that he was about to man-handle a dead woman. It was, after all, to identify her. He patted at her bloating body, searching for her I.D., his brows furrowed as he did so. Suicide victims never stayed behind, never sought help. That, or they just never came to him. Until now, of course.

"Aha!" he breathed to himself, pulling out her wallet from her back pocket. He opened and saw an American license. Hmmm.. Why not a Japanese? Naomi Misora. That was her name. He looked up at her spirit, whom was staring back down at her body. "Naomi?" Her gaze snapped up to him upon hearing her name. "Why did you bring me here?" he questioned, standing up and brushing the dust from his pants.

 _Kira.._

"Sooo.. Kira killed you? I thought he could only kill by heart attacks?" He tapped at his chin, poking his lips out in thought. "What am I supposed to do about that? What do you want me to do..?"

 _Tell... L.._

He blinked rapidly before his eyes grew wide. Did he just hear her right?

 _There... There is something I must do... Something I must tell... L..._ She began to slowly fade away, repeating her words until she was completely gone, leaving her body with his.

Dammit.. Now, somehow, _he_ was involved in this, with this woman. _He_ was leading the Kira case, so maybe Naomi had some information on the serial killer? He already knew that Kira was willing to kill anyone who got in his way, what with the whole Lind Taylor thing.. If Naomi was killed by Kira, then... Maybe.. Maybe he didn't just kill by heart attacks.. Let's face it, the poor woman didn't just off herself on her own. She had something to do, just as she had said.. Which drew him to the conclusion.. Maybe.. Maybe Kira didn't just kill people; maybe he could control their actions as well..

The blonde young man whipped his phone out and quickly dialed the number to the Japanese Police Task Force. He could hear the phone ring not even two times before an obviously tired and annoyed man answered. _"Special Investigation Headquarters for the criminal victim serial murder case."_

"Is this where I call with information pertaining to the Kira investigation?"

* * *

It was late, yet despite the fact that it was at a God awful hour, in a hotel room dimly lit by multiple T.V. monitors were three men busy at work. Two were watching the previously said T.V. screens while the third was typing away at his laptop. The youngest of the three, a man with with untamable black hair and onyx eyes, was crouching in a rather comfortable looking chair in an exceedingly uncomfortable looking position next to an older man with a dignified aura about him.

"After dinner, your son just goes back to his room, studying, without even turning on the T.V. or his computer?" the raven haired man questioned, poking at his lips with his thumb, pushing the bottom above the top. His statement earlier still remained very much true to him: the Yagami household just seemed far too innocent to him. As if it were staged.. The probability of Kira living there was up to seven point three percent.

Chief Yagami nodded his head, reaching up to rub at one of his strained eyes, red and tired from staring at the bright screens in the dark. "Entrance exams.. They're less than ten days from now."

L hummed quietly to himself, sparing a glance at the chief for just a quick moment. _Entrance exams, huh?_ The possibility of this boy being Kira seemed rather plausible to the genius detective. More than plausible. Of course, he'd need solid, incarcerating evidence. That's what this was for. He just needed to follow his hunch about Light Yagami and be persistent. He always followed his hunches, them never being wrong and leading him right where he needed. And everything in him was beginning to point to this star student of Japan.

His thoughts were interrupted by Watari, who had an opened cell phone in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. "Ryuuzaki.." he started, gaining the dark haired lad's attention, which prompted the elder to proceed. "There is another caller with information I am quite positive you'd wish to hear." He held the phone out for L to take.

L took the phone from Watari between his thumb and forefinger. "Thank you," he said in a soft voice, bringing the phone to his ear. The old man nodded, setting the piece of paper beside his prodigy's chair, which he picked up as well to look over. "This is Suzuki speaking, head of the information processing unit." Hmmm.. A bank owner suspected of embezzlement and a purse snatcher had just died of a heart attack. Light hadn't had any access to that information, L knew that. But.. It still seemed way too.. Innocent. "Please, go ahead."

 _"Naomi Misora is dead."_ That voice..

"I am already aware of Miss Misora's disappearance and possible death; why do you seen so sure of her death?"

 _"I found her body."_

This made the genius arch a brow. "Oh? How is that, when the police are out searching for her at this moment? In fact, shouldn't you be bringing this to the police instead of me? This has nothing to do with the Kira investigation." He was close to hanging up at this point if whoever was calling didn't bring forth anything that would be of valuable information. The thought of this possibly being Kira flashed through his mind. If it was, what would be the point? Gloating? To tell him that he could and would get to anyone?

 _"I found her because I was lead to her by her spirit. I'm bringing this to you first because,_ L _, I thought you might want to know. Because she told me she had something important to tell you before she passed on. The police are going to be contacted once I'm done with you so that they can get her."_

L was silent, allowing this to mull over in that extraordinary brain of his. "That is ridiculous. I am going to hang up now. I suggest you not waste my ti-"

 _"_ Ridiculous _? I do not remember you calling my talent ridiculous growing up, L?"_ Ah.. So it was..

"That is because I believe you were a lonely little thing who mad up stories to quell the loneliness you felt." he retorted calmly, pouring himself some tea and adding some sugar to it. He sipped loudly at it.

 _"Hmmm... That hurt."_ There was a short pause. _"And now, I'm over it. And I guess I won't be telling you what I found out. Too bad.. It's a doosie."_

Before L could say another word, the line went dead, that steady beeping sound ringing in his ears. He was blinking slowly while biting at his thumb once more, where as Watari.. Watari was staring at L with a knowing smile and a slow head shake.

* * *

 **A/n:** Welp, there's chapter 1 :3 Thank you for the follows and favorites, and for the reviews. :)

Mari Clair: Thank you for your review. I am glad you think my story has potential. I hope I can keep L in character all the way to the end. And I love characters with black hair as well (*cough*L*coughcough*) Black hair or red hair for me. Quinny was originally going to be a red head, but the black hair won over for me. I hope to be seeing more of you during the continuance of my story. :)

Sydney: Thank you as well. I hope I can keep your interest :)

* * *

 _Edit: Okay, so, I accidentally swapped a few paragraphs around -how did that even happen...- as I was editing, so It was kind confuzzled. I fixed it. XD_


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